


Crimson Clove

by Denyce



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 21:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denyce/pseuds/Denyce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lorne is missing and what John finds is unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimson Clove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [padfootthegrim](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=padfootthegrim).



“Alright, we’ll split up and then check in every fifteen minutes.” John looked around and caught Teyla’s gaze before he shifted his own, then nodded numbly when she tried to offer some measure of support.

“I am sure we will find him…”

Curtly John cut her off and choked out, “Let’s move out.” He knew she was going to say, _find him alive_. John’s gut twisted at the thought of what if she was wrong – what if they found him like the others, torn apart… John swallowed past the lump forming in his throat.

His fingers clutched tighter on his P90 as unwanted memories came to mind of the first time he had found Lorne, or what he had thought was Lorne’s charred remains.

Back then, they hadn’t been together for very long, yet when he had lifted Lorne’s dog tags to the light – John had vividly remembered Evan’s body against his. Remembered how their tags tangled, the soft ting as they knocked and twisted, how cool metal warmed against his skin.

John felt helpless against the growing anger, despair, and the isolation he felt because nobody knew the truth about their relationship. John had to admit that it wasn’t a relationship, but rather convenience on both their parts – at least that’s how it had started. Even when that changed – at least for him - John didn’t share that part of his life with his teammates. They only knew what he wanted them to know: that Lorne was his SiC, a teammate, a friend.

After the first time Lorne was captured and found alive, John could breathe. Even while Ladon and Lorne’s men were there watching them, he wanted to do more, but no matter how lax they were in following regulations in Atlantis, there were still a few that upheld the DADT policy. Once they were back in Atlantis and safe in the privacy of their own quarters, John couldn’t hold back and practically tackled Lorne, devouring him in a kiss.

That’s when things had shifted and changed between them. When John had finally understood that Lorne wasn’t just Major Lorne: his SiC, a friend and an occasional fuck buddy, but that Evan was someone John didn’t want to lose - ever. Somehow the man had slipped under his guard and stolen his heart. It was sappy, stupid, but around Evan, he felt like a teenager all over again - feelings that continued to grow, deepen.

John could barely breathe now whenever his thoughts drifted to the first bodies they'd found. Inhaling then exhaling an unsteady breath, John shook his head to forcibly focus on the task at hand - finding Evan; while praying to every divinity that they’d find him alive and in one piece.

*~*~*

John had just finished the fifth check-in; there still were no signs of Evan. Jaw clenched, John silently swore, afraid if they didn’t find Evan in the next hour they’d have to give up the search until morning.

Lost in thought, John didn’t hear the first rustles of movement. Raising his P90, eyeing the dense brush, he heard steps. John swallowed and quietly called out, “Evan?”

There was no answer, but the steps moved in closer. Cautious that it might be the thing that had attacked the others, John touched his ear piece and stepped back. “Sheppard here, I have unknown activity…” Abruptly John stopped as he heard growls. His eyes scanned the forest, but he couldn’t find the source.

Something broke from the shadows, charging at him. John aimed and fired but it didn’t slow down. It knocked him to the ground even as John heard Teyla and Ronon’s concerned voices in his ear.

Dazed, his head throbbing, John just laid there staring up at the creature pressing down on his chest. It was large, black fur, bearing sharp teeth down at him. Suddenly its weight was gone as something else attacked it and they rolled together.

It was a similar animal; both were too large and hairy to be considered dogs. Though double in size, they held comparable features to his home world’s wolves. They rolled out of their attack into a standoff, each growling viciously.

The smaller of the two held his ground in front of John, pacing before him as if he had been claimed by it, the prize. Remembering the bodies they'd found, John knew it had to have been these animals - wolves, for lack of a better name - that were the culprit, who had brutally killed Marcus' and Lorne’s team. And it looked like he was next on their menu.

John clenched his hand, belatedly realizing his gun was gone. John turned and stilled. He had to close his eyes against the blinding pain as it ricocheted like a pinball through his head. He was hurt. Absently, John’s hand moved toward his head and felt wetness, what he suspected was blood. Inhaling, John pushed through the pain and lifted his head to scan the area, searching for his gun only to find it was out of reach. Heavily, he dropped his head and intended to roll his body in an effort to get up. He made it up to his elbows to see that he had twisted his leg, probably broken it, before he collapsed back down, exhausted from the pain.

A sharp whine rent the air, drawing John’s attention back. The two wolves were once again engaged in battle, ferociously ripping into each other. The larger black wolf dominated the smaller one, but though he appeared wounded, the smaller continued to keep the larger one at bay.

John blinked, stunned as he watched as the larger wolf attack, rushing in trying to get past the smaller wolf – to him.

With each pass the smaller wolf was right there blocking. Even wounded, he stood guard protecting John; more and more blood soaked its fur. The more the smaller one effectively blocked the larger wolf, the angrier it got and foolishly rushed again. After a number of blocked passes, John realized it was ploy to tire the larger wolf out.

On the last pass, although he successfully blocked the attack, the smaller wolf yelped and started to limp, holding a paw off the ground. Suddenly it sat down, its head lowered in submission.

The larger wolf barked and seemed to grin. It didn’t wait, but attacked. John could see its intention was to kill the smaller wolf and claim its prize – John.

The smaller wolf didn’t move and appeared to accept its defeat even as the larger wolf closed in. Just as the larger wolf lunged to strike, the smaller wolf made a counter attack. Its jaws clamped down and anchored onto the black wolf’s throat and held on. The black wolf fought as it thrashed and pulled against the smaller wolf only to cause more damage until its body gave out and slumped to the ground, dead.

Even as it lay dead, the smaller wolf didn’t let go. Instead it shook the black wolf’s body as if he wanted to make sure it really was dead.

Fear sliced through John as he felt his heart rate increase when the wolf dropped the dead weight and turned toward him, blood dripping from its mouth.

John watched, amazed, as the wolf limped toward him. He tried to inch away as it got closer only to give in to the pain. Startled, John opened his eyes he hadn’t realized he closed when he felt a cool tongue bath his face.

The small wolf lay down next to him, its wet snout nuzzling his ear, then continued lap over his face.

On instinct, John slowly reached out and started to pet the wolf. At the wolf’s happy whimper, John smiled, closing his eyes and breathing easier now that he wasn’t about to be killed. With practiced ease, John’s fingers dug in and rubbed gently, avoiding areas where the wolf was hurt. His hand stilled when his fingers touched something familiar: a metal chain. Opening his eyes, John worked the chain and heard the dangle of dog tags before his fingers actually touched what he found on the metal chain.

Clasping the dog tags in his fist, in shock, John opened and closed his mouth before he uttered a whispered, “Evan?”

The wolf responded by lapping his face, and then abruptly pulled back, lifting his face and scanning the area. His ears stood up, twitching, alert. Though he was hurt, the wolf – Evan - stood to protect John.

Stunned, John watched as it stood over him, the dog/wolf that was supposedly Evan, his Evan. John’s eyes swept down to the chain that remained around its neck, Evan’s tags.

John scarcely had time to react when he heard McKay’s, “Oh no,” and Ronon’s weapon charge before he yelled out, and twisted his body awkwardly forward in an attempt to protect Evan. “NO!”

Luckily Ronon had sharp reflexes and at the last second adjusted the shot to stun as he hit his target.

Evan yelped in pain and slumped down unconscious next to John. Mindless of his leg, John scooted closer to Evan, frantic to find a pulse buried under his fur.

Concerned, Teyla called out. “John, are you all right?”

Distracted John answered, relieved when he felt Evan’s heart beating under his palm. “Yes... well, no, my leg... I’m pretty sure it’s broken. We’ll need Carson.”

“Very well.”

“And Teyla... tell ‘em Lorne’s been hurt.”

“You found the Major?”

Under his breath John quietly answered, “Yeah, yeah I did.” He didn’t need to bother explaining any further as they could see for themselves. Evan’s wolf body was shifting back into human form. John didn’t know or care why, how, or even exactly what Evan had turned into... not after his experience with the Iratus bug. What John cared about was having a chance to tell Evan that he loved him. Grateful he was alive - and had protected him with his own life – John would do no less.

~


End file.
